


we'll be lost before the dawn

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Crowe Altius Week 2019 (Complete) [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crowe's mind goes into the gutter several times, F/F, Flirting, No Kingsglaive Traitors verse, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: There’s never been any gender politics in the Kingsglaive. Drautos made it clear from day one - on the battlefield, they’re all equal. All the same. A unit with many different faces, and expected to act like it.But out in the public sphere? That’s a different beast.





	we'll be lost before the dawn

There’s never been any gender politics in the Kingsglaive. Drautos made it clear from day one - on the battlefield, they’re all equal. All the same. A unit with many different faces, and expected to act like it.

 

But out in the public sphere? That’s a different beast.

 

Crowe knows she isn’t what the Lucians would consider a traditional woman. She doesn’t dress soft, doesn’t enjoy dresses or long gowns to accentuate her figure. She doesn’t do her hair up beyond a messy bun or the occasional braid if she’s feeling super fancy, doesn’t wear makeup or paint her nails or try to flirt with guys that pay her interest.

 

She’s had flings over the years - girlfriends, countless, that all went by the roadside when they turned needy and demanding. 

 

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret is on an entirely different level than all those flings of the past. She is everything Crowe is not, and everything the Lucians expect to see. She is also the Oracle, while Crowe is a mere Kingsglaive.

 

A Kingsglaive currently dressed in her most casual outfit, arm looped with Luna’s as they walk to the store together. Because Luna apparently wants a re-introduction to Lucis, and given Noctis is still on bedrest, it falls to Crowe. 

 

Crowe isn’t a traditional woman. And most of the Kingsglaive members are known - her face has been seen around quite a bit, given how powerful she is. So Insomnia knows her, to a degree. They don’t necessarily know she prefers women, but they see her with her arm wrapped around Luna’s, Luna leaning into her shoulder to speak to her, dressed in a soft shirt and a jacket that’s obviously borrowed (it’s Crowe’s spare biking  jacket, because nothing Luna had in her closet was thick enough to deal with the winds, and Crowe doesn’t have a car), and it doesn’t take much to put two and two together.

 

In the Glaive, nobody bats an eye about this kind of stuff. Because as a unit, you are expected to stand by your teammates, and operate as one mind, one body. Out in the real world, there’s no such thing as that. So the side-eyes and sneers they get are par for the course, and Crowe kind of wishes a little bit she could change her appearance at whim, so she could try to pass as male. Not for herself - but because she doesn’t want  _ Luna  _ getting flack over this. She’s the Oracle, for Six’s sake. 

 

“Almond milk?”

 

“You’ve never tried it?”

 

Crowe looks at the price and winces. “Not really into the fancy stuff. Also, I’m not made of money, darlin’.”

 

Luna looks at the price, and winces too. Gently sticks the canister back on the shelf. “I see your point,” she concedes. “Well, when I go back to Tenebrae, I’ll see if I can chill some and bring it with me. I would like for you to experience it at least once.” Her smile feels like sunbeams coming out from behind a cloud. God, Crowe is stupid for this woman. 

 

“What else is on the list?” she asks, and leans her head on Crowe’s shoulder again, peering down to look. Crowe nearly fumbles the piece of paper (because her palms are sweating so badly) and recovers it in the nick of time. She thinks someone snickers behind her. She ignores it. “Uh… oh god that’s Nyx’s handwriting.” She squints. Bastard’s got terrible chicken-scratch.

 

“I think that says ‘ham and cheese for omelettes’?”

 

“Oh, right. He was saying something about wanting one. Or maybe making one for No--a friend.” She hastily covers what she was fixing to say. She knows Noctis and Luna have finally talked - she walked  Luna down last night and stood perfectly presentable with Nyx outside the door while they talked in quiet tones. There hadn’t been any yelling, but  _ something  _ had crashed and hit the ground - something glass. Nobody had been crying, but Luna had come out with a sad cast to her face, and Noctis had looked like he’d been punched in the guts. 

 

She doesn’t know the depth of what they talked about. Whether Noctis mentioned that he and Nyx were a  _ thing --  _ or whether Luna just asked about the marriage. She kind of wants to ask, but at the same time she’s almost afraid to ask. 

 

“For Noctis, right?” Luna says, and everything in Crowe’s chest freezes for a second before starting again. “It’s okay. We talked about it last night. About… well. A little bit of everything, really.”

 

Crowe side-eyes her, tries to get a read on the situation. She doesn’t… seem too broken up. Delicately, she tries, “And the smashing?”

 

She doesn’t expect Luna’s cheeks to turn pink. “I… tripped over the hem of my skirt turning, and knock a vase off the nightstand. I was a bit clumsy, that’s all.”

 

Crowe can’t tell if she’s lying or not. She doesn’t seem like she is, but heartbroken girls have lied for less. “And the marriage?”

 

“Cancelled. Noctis… he doesn’t say it, but I saw it, when he talked about Nyx.” She smiles, and it’s genuine, warm. “I think he’s gotten it right on the first try, lucky.”

 

Yeah. Crowe knows exactly what she means. She’s seen the way Nyx looks when he talks about Noctis, or when Noctis is in the room, and not looking. It’s not the head-over-heels infatuation. It’s the patient, quiet love that speaks of having spent years of their lives together, and a readiness to spend a million more years. Which is kind of unfair, given they’ve only been dating for like, two months.

 

“And,” Luna says, stopping the cart to grab a package of ham out of the fridge. “I told Noctis I found someone else. Someone who makes me incredibly happy. They make me feel whole.”

 

Crowe’s heart shatters.

 

She’s known - expected it to happen. She’s told herself furiously  _ don’t get attached.  _ And then she went and did it anyway, and now she’s getting what she  _ deserves.  _

 

Luna deserves a future. A good wife, or husband, or someone who will stand beside her always. And Crowe… Crowe loves her. Adores her. But her place is always on the battlefield. She wants a home, yes, and maybe a partner someday, with maybe a kid. But she loves her place among the Glaives just as dearly. And she knows there are precisely zero Lucians outside of maybe the Prince who would understand that, or accept it. 

 

“Hmm,” she says, and Luna looks up sharply, and Crowe forces a smile to her face. “I’m glad to hear that. They must be something special, Princess.”

 

Luna’s still staring at her with that eagle-sharp stare, and Crowe prays to the Six her mask doesn’t slip. Can’t, now.  _ C’mon old girl, you had to expect this at some point. Pick up the pieces and just let her go. She wasn’t yours anyway. _

 

And something in her whispers back  _ but I wanted her to be. _

 

Luna keeps an eye on her as they walk, and Crowe lets her, forcing herself to walk through the aisles even when her legs feel numb, and makes herself speak even when her throat feels tight and her eyes burn. 

 

She can do this. She’s a Kingsglaive, fierce and strong. Unyielding. She will win this fight despite the odds.

 

“Crowe,” Luna says, when they’ve paid and left, and are getting back on the bike. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Didn’t you just?”

 

That gets her a swat to the shoulder, barely felt through the padding of her outfit. “I want you to teach me to fight.”

 

Crowe kicks the engine alive, feels Luna’s arms slip around her midsection, and focuses on watching her mirrors as she backs out to make sure nobody’s going to rear end them. And then they’re on the road, and it’s hard to speak through helmets, and even harder on an open road with the wind howling beside them, so Crowe doesn’t answer her then, either. Maybe it's her being a coward, but her heart is still falling apart in her chest, even through the litany of  _ she was never yours, she was never yours,  _ **_she was never yours_ ** she has going on in a loop in her head. 

 

Because for all that Crowe has never been a dreamer, she still hopes, from time to time. And occasionally, hope hurts. This is one of those times, the razor-blade edge catching her off-guard, slicing her wide open. She’ll recover, but not anytime soon.

 

She pulls into the garage and parks the bike, pulling her helmet off, but before she can move, Luna catches her shoulder with a hand, and when Crowe turns to her she freezes up because Luna is practically leaning on top of her, face close enough for their noses to nearly touch. Up this close, Crowe can see just how blue her eyes are, not the bright piercing blue of sky, but the darker, cooler blue of sea waters and royalty.

 

_ She’s not yours,  _ she thinks, but the thought barely makes a dent in her mind over the triplicate thud of her heart, the way her stomach clenches and she can feel heat beginning to coil inside of her again at the proximity. She could kiss Luna like this, and for a moment in her mind’s eye she sees it - she imagines nudging Luna’s nose with her own, reaching up to cup the porcelain pale cheek, stroking a thumb across it as she kisses Luna quiet. In her head, Luna welcomes it.

 

If she tried it for real? There’s a very good chance she’d get punched, if not shoved off her own bike and jabbed with a trident. 

 

_ She’s not yours. _

 

She swallows. “What.” It comes out as flat as she’s hoping it would. Good.

 

“Teach me to fight, Crowe,” Luna says, and everything in Crowe shivers as she realizes the steel in Luna’s voice means she’s not  _ asking,  _ she’s  _ telling.  _ This is a Queen now, and Crowe’s damned grateful for the bike’s support, her legs feeling weak. Even with a broken heart, Luna still manages to find ways to ruin her. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m tired of being sidelined. I’m tired of only being able to heal. I want to help, and what we need now are fighters, not healers.”

 

“Healing is also important, Princess,” Crowe says. 

 

“Maybe. But wouldn’t you also feel better, knowing I can keep myself safe if it comes to it? If something happens, and we get seperated, you don’t need to worry about your Oracle, because I can take care of myself?”

 

“I’ll always worry about you,” Crowe says, and the honesty sears her lungs as the words leave. She expects to see Luna look vexed, or annoyed, but instead there’s a quiet curl of pleasure, of contentment at the corners of her eyes and lips, and it just makes Crowe tremble even more. 

 

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ She’s sinking her own ship now. Luna doesn’t have to do anything more than  _ smile  _ and Crowe would fucking do  _ anything  _ for her. Fuck.

 

“Then teach me.”

 

Crowe doesn’t react when Luna presses their foreheads together, sharing a breath - she doesn’t know if Luna realizes what the symbolic gesture  _ means  _ in Galahd, but she matches her breathing to Luna’s in an instant, and for a moment, it feels like they’re one person. 

 

Then Crowe gently pulls back, drunk on the soft, unstoppable power that is Luna’s fire, and says, “Okay.”

 

And Luna smiles.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

Drautos nearly has a fit when Crowe brings in Luna the next morning to training.

 

“Are you out of your  _ mind,  _ Altius?”

 

“No,” Luna speaks before Crowe can. “We’re both in our right minds, Captain. But I need to learn to fight properly. Lucis needs all the hands we can get, and even if I return to Tenebrae, I am not about to let what occured with the Empire happen to me again. Not so long as I breathe.”

 

(Crowe has a miniature panic attack. It’s a small one, easily contained, even if the thought of Luna dying makes everything in her scream.)

 

Drautos stares the Oracle down. “And you decide the Kingsglaive should train you?”

 

“I would prefer to operate on magic-based combat, but a well-rounded education can’t hurt either. I already spoke to Cor, and he refused me. So now I come to you.”

 

“And if I refuse you?”

 

“Then I go to the Shield and his King.”

 

Drautos gains a look like he’s eaten something nasty. Not only would it be a point against them if she has to go to the King and Clarus for training, it would also say something about their  _ policy.  _ The one that welcomes all to the Kingsglaive, that says they all stand equal on the battlefield.

 

“Crowe?”

 

“I’m handling her training, sir. At least the beginnings of it.” She hopes Drautos allows her to, at least. They haven’t exactly been forthcoming with him on this matter, so there’s an equal chance he won’t want to let her handle Luna.

 

But he nods. “Fine. But let me know when she’s bested you, so I can move her up in rank. And tell that boy of yours to stop making noises at me. Regis will have my balls if I put him back on the front lines if it's not an absolute emergency.”

 

Crowe nods, because she knows Noctis misses the front lines, even if he doesn’t say it. And the boys, for all that they welcome Noctis like one of their own, miss him too. He was a little spitfire on the field, while he was there.

 

Now, Luna will stand beside Crowe, and the noises will probably take on a tune of  _ why is  _ **_she_ ** _ there while I’m not?  _ Which Crowe won’t blame him for in the slightest. Assuming he finds out.

 

(She’s not going to let him find out.)

 

“Right. Thank you sir.”

 

“Thank you, Captain.”

 

They get waved out of his office, and Crowe lets her automatic trainer mindset take over. “With me.”

 

Luna matches her stride for stride, apparently understanding that the way of things has shifted, and now she must listen if she wants to learn. Crowe thrusts a pair of training attire at her, complete with boots, and points to a nearby cubical. “Get changed, and then come out. If anything’s too long or drags, find a way to tie it up. I don’t care how, just do it.”

 

She’s used to waiting forever for the new guys to come out - there’s something about coming out of a dressing room to a commanding officer’s cold stare that makes the stomach curl, and Crowe says this from the position of someone who had both Cor Leonis  _ and  _ Captain Drautos there to witness her as she emerged into the training hall. 

 

But unlike the other shrinking violets in the group, Luna emerges with her chin held high, her shoulders back, and her spine straight. Her hair has been done back in a tight bun that Crowe recognizes as similar to her own, and her shirt, long-sleeved and fairly hardy, has been tied up in a knot around her waist, to prevent it billowing and streaming as she fights. The pants have faced a similar fate, but Crowe catches the tell-tale gleam of bobby pins in the hems under the light. Smart girl. 

 

Nothing can help the boots, unfortunately, but there’s no size smaller than those. Crowe nods, pretends like her inspection hasn’t lasted longer than it should, and then reaches for a nearby weapon rack, and without preamble, throws a flask at her head. An opening she’s done with every recruit thus far, to see how fast their reactions will be. 

 

Luna dodges the flask - it shatters on the nearby wall and explodes in a shower of ice. And then Luna shifts her weight, and out of thin air comes the trident, and she  _ hurls it-- _

 

Crowe leans back half an inch, and the trident sinks in the wall right beside her head, where it  _ hums  _ ominously, crackling with a powered electrical spell. 

 

Crowe has never been so aroused so fast in her  _ life.  _ It’s painful, and for a wild moment she can see herself in her mind’s eye, if they were lovers, this would be the moment Crowe locked the doors, ripped Luna’s clothes off and  _ went to town.  _

 

Unfortunately, none of those things are allowed, or particularly smart. So instead, she adopts her ‘reasonable trainer’ tone and says, “Sharp reflexes. Good. Now see if you can actually  _ hit me.” _

 

Luna’s smirk is cold and calculated, and her eyes gleam with a hunter’s vengeance. Crowe reminds herself being weak at the knees is a very good way to die, and she won’t have the opportunity in battle.

 

And then she goes to work.


End file.
